Steele of the Night (Daggers & Steele Book 7) Read online

  “Precisely,” said Cairny. “Guano. It was obvious given its white color.”

  “Guano?” I said. “Like from bats? Steele, did you hear that?”

  “Or seagulls.” Cairny’s brow furrowed again. “And I’m not imagining it. I’m definitely missing something.”

  Shay sighed. “Daggers is under the impression Mr. Wilson was murdered by a vampire.”

  Cairny cupped her chin. “Hmm.”

  “You actually agree with him?” said Steele.

  “I didn’t say that,” said Cairny. “I’m simply considering the possibility.”

  “What’s there to consider?” I said. “Chaz had his throat torn out, by teeth in all likelihood. He lost all his blood, and he’s covered in bat droppings.”

  “Or seagull droppings,” said Cairny. “I’m not experienced enough to distinguish between the two. The fact that he lost all his blood is immaterial. Of course he did, given the state of his throat. And as far as teeth are concerned…I’m not entirely convinced. I’ll need to give it some thought.”

  “And the ankh tattoo?” I said. “He was also found with a book of the occult in his possession, and he frequented a known vampire hangout.”

  “Known vampire hangout?” said Steele.

  “Close enough,” I said.

  Cairny eyed me dubiously. “I said I’ll give it thought.”

  I snorted. “You two and your facts. Those never carried as much weight as my intuition in the old days.”

  Shay brushed me off. “Anything else, Cairny?”

  She shrugged. “I found some bruising on his backside, as well as unidentified hair fragments in his clothing. Well…unidentified until I heard about the camel—which doesn’t fit into the vampire narrative, I must say.”

  “It’ll fit,” I said. “I’ll find a way for it to fit.”

  Once again, my partner ignored me. “Cairny, what are you doing for lunch? I’m starving.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that an invitation? Give me five minutes to free Quinto from his new two-toed friend and I’ll meet you at the door.”

  “We’ll do you one better,” said Steele. “We’ll head out and you can meet us there. Thoroughly Bread, just down the street.”

  Cairny nodded, but I eyed Shay with concern. If she couldn’t even wait five minutes for her best friend then her hunger situation had become dire indeed. Better we move quickly else she bite my head off, either figuratively or literally.

  15

  “How about that booth over there?” I pointed. “It should fit five.”

  We stood inside the aforementioned Thoroughly Bread, a new eatery a few blocks down the street from the precinct. A sign depicting a racehorse chowing down on a sandwich hung over the entrance, but the owners hadn’t been content to set the metaphor aside at the door. Horseshoes, riding crops, and paintings of racing stallions adorned the walls. Even the fixtures for the booths had been styled to look like animal stalls.

  At least the interior didn’t also harbor that distinctive stable smell.

  Shay shrugged. “The booth would fit five normal individuals. Might be tight with Quinto. Still, not like I see a better option.”

  Folks packed the interior, filling most of the chairs. I wasn’t sure if the crowds were due to the quality of food or the place’s novelty, but either way, it seemed like a good sign.

  The door opened, setting off the chimes. In walked Cairny, Rodgers, and Quinto.

  “Ah, good,” I said. “Guys? Booth in the far corner. Looks like our only option.”

  We shuffled between the tables, thankfully reaching the booth in question before any interlopers beat us to the punch. Shay and I shuffled in on one side, Rodgers and Cairny on the other, while Quinto pulled up a free chair and positioned it on the end.

  Quinto sighed, his chair creaking as he settled his bulk into it. “Whew! Tell you what, I’m glad you guys suggested lunch. Wrangling a thousand pound beast really takes it out of you, even for a guy my size.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I said. “It’s a real drag, I’m sure.”

  Quinto gave me a lips pressed together sort of look. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We all saw you sweet-talk that camel at the Moxy,” I said. “Well, not Cairny, but everyone else. By all accounts your relationship with the beast has only grown stronger.”

  Quinto shifted his gaze to Rodgers. He knew where the unspecified accounts had originated.

  “What?” said Rodgers. “It’s true. You’ve been hanging out with that camel all morning. Don’t act like it’s been a miserable experience.”

  “For your information,” said Quinto, “I’ve been hard at work. Soothing that animal. Making sure he doesn’t damage the holding cells. Collecting evidence, including blood and fur samples. Looking into that Minestrone Brothers circus—no leads yet, in case you were wondering. Not to mention cleaning up after the beast. Good gods, does that thing poop a lot. And before you ask, yes, I washed my hands before coming over.”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” said Cairny. “You’ve found a new best friend, relegating me to a second banana. I understand.”

  Quinto frowned and shook his head. “I can tell when I’m being ganged up on. Did you two order yet?” He shot a finger toward the service counter.

  “Sure did. For all of us.” I held a numbered placard in my hand. I flicked it Quinto’s way for him to place at the edge of the table.

  “Uh-oh,” said Rodgers. “That sounds ominous.”

  “You don’t trust my judgment?” I said.

  “With food?” said Rodgers. “Not by a long shot.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Steele. “I made the culinary decisions.”

  “Well, lay it on us then,” said Cairny. “What are we having?”

  Steele began ticking off the choices on her fingers. “For Quinto, to satisfy his love of bold flavors, we got him a salami sandwich with pickled peppers, spiced cabbage slaw, and goat cheese. For you, Cairny, a blackened catfish po’ boy—”

  “Blackened catfish?” said Cairny. “Is that a statement about my fashion choices?”

  “Daggers thought it would be funny,” said Shay. “But ultimately I felt the flavor profile would be up your alley, so I allowed it. Rodgers, we got you a smoked turkey, ham, tomato, and sage-scented cheese club.”

  Rodgers gave a thumbs up. “Perfect.”

  “Daggers ordered a pulled pork with cole slaw and swiss on an onion roll, and I opted for poached chicken with a house-made aioli and locally sourced cheddar on a baguette.”

  “Fancy,” said Rodgers. “Daggers, a year ago, could you have imagined yourself eating like this?”

  “A year ago I didn’t even know what aioli was,” I said. “So no. But I do think I would’ve given this place a shot. I mean, sandwiches? Within minutes of the precinct? Come on.”

  “Please,” said Shay. “You would’ve been thrown off by the crowds, trendy sign, and too-clean interior.”

  I shrugged. “You’re probably right. With no bar to speak of, I would’ve about-faced and found the nearest dank hole to eat in by myself. In other news, have I mentioned how much I prefer having friends?”

  I made the statement in jest, but as with all jokes, mine was only amusing because of the truth at its core. Shay gave me a silent, warm smile, but her intent was clear. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Daggers, her bright blue eyes told me, and you’re better off for it. We all are.

  “Hey, you know what we’re missing?” said Quinto. “Drinks.”

  “I told the cashier at the front to bring coffee and tea with the meal,” I said.

  “Not that,” said Quinto. “The alcoholic kind. Steele’s captain now. We should celebrate!”

  Shay’s smile faded. “Um…no thanks, Quinto. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather not.”

  The big guy blinked. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re going to be as big a hard ass as the old Captain when it comes to drinkin
g on the job.”

  “That’s not it,” said Shay. “I just don’t feel like I’m…worthy of the position.”

  Cairny nodded. “Impostor syndrome. Very common in people who are in positions of power, even for those who are highly educated and experienced. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But that’s the thing,” said Shay. “I’m not experienced. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, or supposed to be doing. If not for all of you, I’d be lost.”

  Quinto gave a dismissive wave. “Please. Anyone thrust into your position would be—except for a captain transferred from a different precinct, which is probably what the higher-ups will do when they’ve decided to award someone the position permanently, but that’s different. Anyone else, even long time detectives, wouldn’t handle the change any better than you have.”

  Shay lifted a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

  “He is,” said Rodgers. “You’re far more intelligent than most folks in the precinct. You’re probably the smartest one among the bunch of us, except for maybe Cairny. Experience be damned, that’s huge. And you’ve already figured out the most important part of being a captain, which is that you can’t do everything yourself. Let other people handle the dirty work. That’s what we’re here for. Don’t worry. We won’t let you down.”

  Shay glanced at me.

  I gave her a nod. “That’s exactly what I said earlier—or tried to. I’m not always the most eloquent individual when I’m nervous. But they’re absolutely right. We’re here for you.”

  It took a moment for our collective support to buoy her, but eventually it did. Shay smiled. “Alright. Well…thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

  “Thirty-five?” a voice rasped.

  We all looked up—then down. A burly goblin server balanced a tray laden with our sandwiches and drinks on his back.

  “That’s us,” I said. “Quinto, let’s help him out.”

  We distributed the foodstuffs, allowing the goblin to return to the kitchen with his tray and back intact. Apparently, Shay wasn’t the only one whose hunger had taken control of their senses, as we all attacked our sandwiches with a ferocious intensity. Their delectable smells probably had something to do with it. The sweet, smoky scent of my pulled pork told me I’d made the right choice before I sunk my teeth into the first bite.

  Moans, slurps, and belches served as the only conversation during the meal, but as soon as we’d finished, Shay revealed what sort of captain really lurked under her fashionable pantsuit.

  “Alright,” she said, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “Now that we’re recharged and refreshed, let’s get back to work. Daggers, you’ve been taking detailed notes, right? Let’s talk timeline. Where are the gaps?”

  In her desperation, Shay had somehow eaten quicker than me. I popped the last bite of pork roll into my mouth, sucked the barbecue sauce off my fingers, and went digging for my notebook.

  “Ah, let’s see here,” I said, pulling the pad from my jacket with my clean hand. “Well, we know Chaz was alive and well with his band mates when they finished their show at the Moxy at around ten PM. After that, the Yellow Cobra foursome apparently visited the house of this Billy Charles, who we still haven’t met. Probably should do that. From there, we’re in the dark until about one or one fifteen, at which point Chaz, Sammy, and Ritchie all stopped by Chaz’s estranged wife, Heather’s, apartment. We’re still not sure what happened to B. B., but clearly the band lost contact with him in that period.

  “We don’t know for sure if Chaz and company headed straight from Heather’s apartment to Club Midnight, but the timing suggests that’s the case, seeing as they arrived at the goth club by a quarter to two. They only stayed for a half hour, leaving with some weirdo by the name of Jefferson Torment, who then separated Chaz from the group, branded him with the mark of eternal life, savaged his neck, and left his corpse in the middle of Rucker Park after feasting on his life force.”

  “Daggers…” said Shay.

  “Right. Sorry,” I said. “What I meant to say is that we’re not sure what happened after Chaz, Sammy, and Ritchie left with this Jefferson character. That’s our last point of reference until Chaz’s death, which Cairny estimates occurred between four and six. We also don’t know when Chaz received his ankh tattoo, but based on the testimony of Club Midnight’s manager, Vance, it was after he left the club. Assuming Chaz did, in fact, get a tattoo and wasn’t marked for slaughter like I previously suggested.”

  Shay pursed her lips. “And you said the Cobras didn’t provide any additional useful testimony, right Rodgers?

  The cheery blond detective shook his head. “None. Claimed they don’t remember a thing.”

  “So, basically, we’re left with a lot of gaps,” said Quinto.

  “And we need to fill them in,” said Shay. “Cairny, I’ll need you to hang back at the precinct and do what you do best. Keep investigating Chaz’s death. I’m not sure if there’s any way for you to match the blood from the camel’s back to him, but if you can, that would be helpful. And if word arrives from Vance regarding Jefferson Torment’s address, forward it to the rest of us.”

  “What’ll we be up to?” asked Quinto.

  “I’d like for you and Rodgers to head back to the Moxy,” said Steele. “In addition to Chaz, we need to build a more concrete timeline for those two Cobra roadies, Diamond and Dennis. I’m not entirely sure I trust their motives, or lack thereof.”

  “And look into that band manager, too,” I said. “Benson. See if he’s been outside at all today.”

  Shay sighed. “Yes, him too, if not necessarily for the reasons Daggers has in mind. His motive for wanting Chaz dead is suspect, but there might be some deeper connections we haven’t uncovered yet.”

  “And you and Daggers?” asked Rodgers. “Where are you headed?”

  “To the home of Billy Charles,” said Shay. “We need to figure out what happened to the Cobras between ten and one.”

  16

  It didn’t surprise me that Billy Charles lived in Brentford. Big D had mentioned the man’s mansion, and Brentford provided the crème-de-la-crème of fancy New Welwic living, at least for those who preferred lavish, sprawling estates over penthouse high-rises. Admittedly, the exclusive neighborhood was situated farther away from the luxury shopping, shows, and soirées of the city’s famous downtown Pearl district, but when rickshaws stood at attention, ready to shuttle wealthy tycoons at a moment’s notice, who needed that level of immediacy?

  I personally preferred the artfully crafted Brentford homes, surrounded by tall trees and neatly trimmed hedges, to the Pearl’s condos. As a small boy, I’d often dreamed about becoming wealthy enough to buy a home in the district. Of course, I’d also fantasized about coming into possession of a harem containing a hundred beautiful, nubile women or of turning into a fifty-foot supercolossus with the strength of a thousand men, skin of stone, and with lightning bolts shooting from my fingertips. All three outcomes seemed equally likely now.

  Shay and I abandoned our rickshaw at the foot of Charles’ estate, following a gravel path bordered by manicured grass toward the front door. Though I’d long since admitted defeat to Shay in the eagle-eyed observation department, it didn’t take her level of prowess to pick out the red flags that separated Charles’ place from other Brentwood mansions. The empty liquor bottles half-sunken into the bushes, for example, or the lipstick-covered toga hanging from an oak branch, or the lone mattress, abandoned in the grass to the right of the door—which, speaking of the devil, had been left ajar.

  I took stock of it as Shay and I mounted the front steps. “I guess the Yellow Cobra gents weren’t the only ones who partied to their fullest extent last night.”

  “It would appear so, wouldn’t it?” Shay knocked on the front door, which creaked and swung in upon her touch. “Hello? Mind if we come in?”

  No one answered. Shay turned to me. “Think this qualifies as an exigent circumstance?”

&nb
sp; “Oh, ho,” I said. “Someone’s been brushing up on their police lingo. And you claimed not to be ready to be captain.”

  “If you must know, yes, I’ve been trying to broaden my horizons. And not simply last night…when I slept about two winks out of the available thousands. Answer the question.”

  “Exigent circumstance allows us entry without a warrant or approval in the events of imminent danger to individuals, evidence destruction, or a suspect’s escape. The last two I think we can eliminate as ongoing. The first however… We found Chaz dead. He was clearly wasted when he died. The party started here. I sure hope Billy Charles is okay.”

  “So you’re saying we should go in?”

  I shrugged. “You’re the captain.”

  “Way to ease the burden from my shoulders.” Shay pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked in. I followed her.

  The home immediately opened into a brightly-lit atrium. Colored light streamed in through stained glass windows set high in the walls, illuminating a majestic grand piano, odd geometrically-shaped sculptures, and more discarded booze bottles. Of people, however, we saw none. Nor did we find any in the adjacent living rooms and common spaces. It wasn’t until we popped outside to the patio that we found a living, breathing being.

  A shirtless elf sprawled across a lawn chair, his chin length silvery-blue hair disguising much of his face. Cigarette butts and broken bottle shards surrounded him, but then again, they littered the patio pavers and grass as far as the eye could see. So did discarded items of clothing—many of them female undergarments, though there were a decent collection of mismatched socks, shoes, and earrings on display, too. Many of the pieces of patio furniture had been overturned and mistreated, leading to a number of broken wooden legs and torn scraps of upholstery among the detritus.

  I approached the elf. I’d started to wonder if he was alive, but a slow rise and fall of his chest kept me from having to expand my investigation into a multiple homicide.

  I poked him in the ribs. “Hello? Billy Charles?”

  The elf muttered something indiscriminate, but he didn’t move or even flutter his eyes.